


To Get My Attention

by Tasteful_Lies



Category: DC Comics, DCEU, Suicide Squad - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Oneshot, Romance, Sweet, hurt comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-12 00:14:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7912963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tasteful_Lies/pseuds/Tasteful_Lies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quinnshot oneshot; contains minor fluff. After the helicopter crash, Harley doesn't know if she needs to scream, or if she just needs a hug.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Get My Attention

His hands on her had been warm. Warm, warm warm, in contrast to the pouring rain. The air was foggy and cold. A perfect atmosphere for the situation. One arm beneath her legs, another around her midsection, helping her off of a police car. Harley was aware her act hadn’t fooled anyone. A smile and a perky attitude didn’t make up for what had happened. She didn’t like his hands. Well, she liked them… a lot, in fact. But it upset her that he was there, daring to comfort her. Can’t a girl be miserable on her own? Apparently not. 

As soon as her heeled boots touched the ground, she pulled herself away from him. Wrapping her bare arms around her body, Harley would’ve done anything for her bomber jacket. Fishnet stockings, unpractical glitter shorts, and a thin half-sleeved shirt did nothing to protect her from the rain. Floyd would have offered her something to wear, she knew, but he didn’t have anything but his gear. That was one good thing. She didn’t want his charity.

“Quinn, I know y-”

“No, you don’t.”

Harley snapped, glowering up at him. She was significantly shorter, but they both knew she was an equal force to reckon with. Floyd held his hands up in surrender, arching both eyebrows at the soaking wet woman as she walked away. He didn’t like to push things, but he told himself her wellbeing affected the safety of their mission. The last thing they needed was a Harley Quinn with a deathwish being reckless.

“Harley. Listen to me.”

 

“Why should I?!” She turned to him, her eyes less wild than usual. They were desperate, full of tears he knew Harley would never let fall.

“Because I didn’t shoot you when I was offered an out. -”

“I don’t wanna listen to you. You’re just an assassin. You ain’t got a life, so stay out of mine.”

Floyd took a deep breath, fully aware she was speaking out of grief and anger. He took a few steps towards her, and Harley immediately moved the same distance in the other direction, away from him. So she was going to be difficult. Great. They didn’t have time to tango, and the rest of the Squad was watching them cautiously.

“Don’t come near me.”

Harley’s voice held a warning, a neon sign above her head saying “I’ll fucking cut you.” Floyd didn’t care. He continued to take short steps towards the woman, his hands held calmly at his sides, his gun holstered. She didn’t move away from him this time, watching cautiously like a field mouse being cornered by an owl. On a normal day, in a normal life, Harley would have teased him about the way he was walking. Slowly and deliberately, as if he was scared. Everyone knew damn well he wasn’t scared of her. A little intimidated, but intimidation was a different thing altogether. The thought of everything else she would have done in a normal life zoned her out, Harley’s eyes glassing over as everything she wanted came to the surface. She broke, staring at Floyd and reaching into her belt, grabbing the body of her gun. 

He was too fast. She thought he would hit her, punch her, scream in her face. It’s what her dead boyfriend would’ve done if she’d talked to him that way. The last thing she expected was his arms to wrap around her, lifting her onto the tips of her toes. His nose was in her hair, the side of her head pressed against his chest. Harley held her breath for a moment, feeling her heart beating in her chest like a sledgehammer. One of his hands had lowered to her hip, holding the gun in it’s holster so she couldn’t pull it on him, while the other was gently holding the small of her back.

“You could’ve just asked for a hug, Dollface. You don’t need to kick and scream to get my attention.”

Harley relaxed into him, face nuzzled into his chest as she took deep, rasping breaths in an attempt to hold the tears back. “He’s dead. H-he’s dead, he’s d-dead, he’s dead..” she kept whispering into his warmth, unable to help the tears beginning to slide down her cheeks. The hand holding her gun reached up to gently trace through her hair.

“I know, Harl. You’re gonna be okay. Let’s go get a drink.”


End file.
